Puppet
by Nashidesei
Summary: [Rewrite of 'Your Life Is The Illusion[subtle CloudXSephiroth] Cloud has lived his life believing he was Sephiroth's partner, but what happens when he finds out that he wasn't? Or when he starts to think he was something so much more sentimental?
1. Your Reality

**Disclaimer**: Alas, I do not own Final Fantasy VII. I do not hold any rights to Sephiroth, Cloud, Vincent, Rufus, Zack (aka 'the amethyst-eyed man'), Barret, Tifa, Scarlet, or Hojo. The world known as Gaea and any people currently populating it belong to _Squaresoft_. Er… _Square_… **_ENIX_**. Ugh.

**Warning:** This fanfic contains an implied relationship between Cloud and Sephiroth, but it is not pronounced or definite in the least. It can be attributed to either a prior romantic relationship between the two of them, or to Cloud's relative insanity during this point in the game; the choice is yours.

**Author's Note (6/8/04)**: This story is placed during the portion of the game when Cloud gives the Black Materia to Sephiroth for the second time, when Sephiroth tells him the truth and Zack is finally introduced. Most of the lines spoken in it are taken directly out of the game, but there are some extra spoken lines—and _all_ unspoken lines—that I came up with.

**Author's Note (2/2/05):** I went through and touched up a few things here and there in all three chapters, cleaning it up significantly, so it's much easier to read now. Also, I've changed a couple things to make descriptions more clear. I hope anyone reading this new, updated version will enjoy it.

**Author's Note (2/7/05): **My computer is currently offline, and it will be for about two or three weeks. This means that _Bound_, _Glimmer_, and everything else will be on hiatus until I get my computer back. I'm very sorry, everyone! I'll try to get it hooked back up faster than I think I will!

-

**Part One: Your Reality**

-

The world was white. It was not the intense white of a light, nor the faded white of a veil, but the barren white that remained when all else had been taken away. White, blank, empty nothingness.

"What _is_ this!" a high voice cried. "What happened!"

Intense azure eyes closed as Cloud took a deep breath, noting that the air was still as chilly as it should have been—chilly and damp as a snow-topped mountain. "Calm down, Tifa," he soothed, never opening his eyes lest the whiteness disorient him as it had his childhood friend. "Sephiroth is nearby; anything could happen."

The world began to fade back into existence: first, a cobbled street, then a building on either side, a rusted truck no one ever drove…

Tifa's cinnamon eyes widened. "…Nibelheim?"

Cloud's eyes snapped open, flashing brightly as emotion surged in time with the name of his hometown. Could it be…?

The normally taciturn Vincent narrowed his scarlet eyes, mouth opening ever so slightly, revealing his inhumanly sharp teeth for an instant before he spoke. "Why…?" His brow furrowed as he shot a look over his shoulder at Cloud. "Is it an illusion?"

The blond took another deep breath, looking out at his hometown. The air was cold—too cold, even for Nibelheim. "This is an illusion Sephiroth made," he said, with a hint more relief than he had initially intended. He gave a sideways glance in either direction, as though he thought the man was right beside him. When no glowing emerald eyes met his own Mako-bright sapphires, he turned back to face his comrades. "He's trying to confuse us." His eyes met Tifa's, and he gave an easygoing smile, waving a gloved hand in dismissal. "It'll be all right," he assured her—although the sudden slurring of his words, his tone falling from that of a noble to that of a commoner, made any reassurance worthless. "As long as we know it's an illusion there's nothing to be afraid of." He started forward. "Come on, let's keep going."

Tifa gave a weak smile, closing her eyes—more to shield them from what she knew was coming than to display any ease—and heading forward. "Yeah, you're right…" She started, head snapping back to follow the road behind them; her gaze lost any semblance of relaxation as they lit on a pair of black boots. Her eyes grew wide with shock as they traveled up those boots, black slacks, a steel belt and a nearly-bare chest to reach the face that haunted her memory; to meet those cold, glowing green eyes…

"Look!" she cried, her voice laced with more fear than she would normally have liked; currently, however, neither she nor Vincent nor Cloud cared about the fright in her tone. Tifa had done her duty, and raised the alarm. The men dashed to either side, both knowing that there was nowhere to conceal themselves even as they did so, as that all-too familiar figure came into view. He walked between them, then past them, then stopped to glance over his shoulder.

When he did, Cloud's breath caught in his throat. Sephiroth was _smiling_. Not the malicious, manic grin he had worn when he killed Aerith, but a true, wholehearted _smile_. And, though the simple display of mirth was still lined with some of the Ancient's usual darkness, the bitterness that had lined his features last time they met was nowhere to be seen.

The silver-haired man, still smiling, spoke at last. _"All right, let's go,"_ he said, turning to face forward once more.

_He just…looked _past_ us…_ Cloud thought in puzzlement. _What…?_ He trailed off, thought broken by the appearance of three more officers. _Hey, I remember this…_

Two lesser officers, garbed in the standard Shinra uniform, walked up, followed by…someone who was not Cloud. It should have been, if this illusion really was what Cloud thought, but this Shinra officer simply was not Cloud. He had long hair, thick and spiky and black as night, locks falling over eyes of shining amethyst.

Tifa shook a shaky breath, holding a hand to her mouth to stifle a gasp. _No…it can't be…_ she shook her head, taking a step back. _Sephiroth! Please, don't…do this…_

Vincent squinted, cocking his head to one side and leaning in closer to the unfamiliar man. He was dressed the same as Cloud, he had Cloud's sword, and the expression he bore was one Vincent had seen on the young blond's face several times; the corners of his mouth turned up ever so slightly in the faintest of smiles, eyes shining both with the power of Mako and with excitement. "That's not Cloud," the ruby-cloaked man said softly. "Who is this man?"

"Stop…" Tifa breathed, voice barely audible. "Sephiroth!"

Cloud sighed, rolling his impossibly blue eyes. "This is so stupid…"

Sephiroth, the Sephiroth of the past, laughed aloud, eyes alight with true mirth—a light his gaze had long since lost. He bent over, hands on his abdomen as the laughter cramped his insides, and he waved one hand as though in dismissal. The man who was not Cloud spoke—or seemed to speak. His mouth moved wordlessly, his voice lost to their ears, and Sephiroth shook his head. His smile still had not faded, and Cloud felt his heart wrench.

This was Sephiroth; the true Sephiroth. This was the man he had befriended in SOLDIER, the man he had wanted so badly to be, the man who had laughed aloud at the mention of his parents—although Cloud had yet to learn why. If only they hadn't come to Nibelheim that day…if only the Mako Reactor hadn't malfunctioned… The young man felt his Mako-bright eyes burn, and reached up to wipe them before anyone could see.

He winced in pain as a flash of white light burned his eyes, and the eyes of his comrades. For a moment Cloud was blind, his vision nothing but eternal white, but as he blinked he dispelled both the tears and the loss of vision. Vincent's sight returned first, as usual, and he saw that the group of Shinra officers were gone.

The scarlet-eyed gunner looked about. "Now," he inquired quietly, "how do we get out of here?"

Tifa, blinking her eyes back into focus, turned her still-blurry gaze on Cloud. "Cloud," she said, her voice wary, "it's just an illusion. Don't worry about it…"

The world, once again, went white. Cloud closed his eyes once more, dizzy from the onslaught of emptiness that had assaulted his vision, and took a deep breath. The chill was fading, slowly being replaced by the vaguest heat… The ex-SOLDIER clenched his eyes tightly shut, concentrating hard, until he caught a familiar scent. Snow on stone, damp and cold…the Gaean Cliffs. _Then this heat is an illusion too,_ he thought, feeling almost relieved. He should have felt entirely relieved, he knew that. And yet, for some reason he couldn't understand, he was vaguely—just enough that he knew it—disappointed.

Sephiroth should have been able to make an illusion so real no one could break free of it, such was his power. Had he grown so weak in those five years that a mere ex-SOLDIER could breathe through the chinks in his magic?

He shook his head to clear it of those confused, renegade thoughts. "What's next?" he inquired, knowing perfectly well that the snowy-haired son of Jenova would not answer, no matter how close he may have been.

Tifa, hands over her eyes to block the hot tears burning behind them, let out a faint whimper as she tried not to shake. "Stop it already!" she cried, her voice breaking.

Vincent's scarlet eyes remained open, staring intently into the white, watching as it faded into something else. Vincent could stare into the pure nothing undaunted; white for a moment was preferable to black for years. As if the man behind this dream could sense the ebon-haired gunner's thoughts, the whiteness deepened into a familiar place, albeit and unfamiliar scene.

Nibelheim in flames. Houses burning, people burning, everything… There was heat, but it was fair fainter that it should have been; this was, indeed, an illusion. An illusion that, for Vincent, brought a rush of guilt to his heart.

"All this…" he breathed. He closed his eyes, brow creasing as he bowed his head. "All this…while I was sleeping…" He ground his teeth, angry. _Damn Hojo and his meddling,_ he thought seethingly. The anger wavered, then dissipated as the memories returned of what had happened then…what had created this monster. He sighed. _Damn me and mine, too…_

"This is what actually happened five years ago," Cloud explained. The blond could see nothing but the burning town, and knew the others were in the same condition, but hoped fervently that they could hear him. "But it's probably not me that's going to come out of the Shinra mansion." He sighed, shrugging, and then shook his head. "He's going to try and show us another stupid illusion."

Cloud was correct in his assumption—the same ebony-haired, amethyst-eyed man that had replaced him earlier came rushing out of the mansion. His blue-violet eyes widened, the flames turning them swiftly scarlet, and his mouth worked silently in disbelief.

"_Hey!"_ a voice called. The replacement turned, the vaguest smile—Cloud's smile—gracing his features; a survivor! Sephiroth hadn't killed them all!

Tifa turned her gaze on the speaker, her cinnamon eyes widening as she recognized her teacher. Zangan…it had been so log since she saw his face…

"_Hey, it's you!"_ Zangan shouted over the roar of the flames and the cries of those whose lives they claimed. His voice was so far away… _"You're still sane, right?" _

The man gave a nod, setting his mouth into a determined line, the smile gone forever.

"_Then come over here and help me!"_

With another nod the man rushed over, leaping over the flames to reach the aging fighter.

"I don't want to…watch this." Tifa swallowed, attempting to purge the lump from her throat. Her mouth was cry, her hands shaking, and she closed her burning eyes. Clenching her hands into fists and holding them up to her face, Tifa shook her head forcefully. "Cloud…!" she called, hoping he could hear her just as she could hear him. "…don't watch."

The shade of Zangan pointed first at the inn, then Cloud's house. _"I'll check this house, you check that one over there!"_ The fighter disappeared into the inn; the replacement of Cloud, amethyst eyes dark, looked about—first at the photographer laying to his right, then to the petty officer on his left. Neither was moving at all… His shoulders dropped and he shook his head, tears visible on his tanned cheeks.

"_Sephiroth,"_ the man whispered. _"This is horrible…"_ He shook his head, dropped to his knees, face contorted in turmoil. _"Sephiroth, this is just too horrible…!"_ His voice was smooth, even through such pain, and held a conviction that, for some reason, made Cloud's heart ache.

_It_'_s almost_… 

The world went white.

…_familiar_.

Cloud shook his head to rid it of the thought. Familiar? No, certainly not. He didn't know this man any more than this man was real. It was just an illusion. With his eyes closed he could hear almost everything. Vincent letting out yet another sigh; the fire fading away; Tifa…crying. His brow furrowed. "What's wrong, Tifa?" he inquired. "I told you before, right? As long as we know it's an illusion, there's no need to be scared."

Vincent watched as the world faded back into existence; this time he was standing on the cobbled ground, Cloud and Tifa before him. He turned to Tifa. "You all right?" he inquired. She turned to face the spot where the replacement had been, but there was no one there. The gunner's dark brows arched. "Hmm? It _was_ an illusion…" He turned to Cloud, fully prepared to tell him he was right, but the younger man cut him off.

"Sephiroth!" he yelled, hands clenched into fists at his sides. "I know you're listening! I know what you want to say! That I wasn't in Nibelheim five years ago." His voice echoed through the empty streets, and Vincent noticed for the first time that the flames had gone silent. Cloud's eyes, narrowed and glowing angrily, cast from one side to the other, searching for the son of Jenova—his archenemy, his old partner, and his… He ground his teeth, forcing his voice to stay level. "That's it, isn't it?"

There was another flash of white, and Sephiroth stood before the young blond. "I see you finally understand," he said, his usually cold voice holding a hint of what could have once—in another time, another place—been called warmth.

Cloud stood before him, unshaken even under those glowing green eyes. They were close enough to touch, close enough for Cloud to smell him…the sweet cold of winter, painful and lovely as Yuletide morning, beautifully warm inside, deadly cold outside, and so painfully familiar. Cloud forced his emotions down, taking a shaky breath, and narrowed his eyes once again. "What you're trying to say is that you want to confuse me, right? But," he took a deep breath, "even making me see those things won't affect me." In defiance, he took a step closer to the would-be Cetra and raised his voice. "I remember it all. The heat of the fire…the pain in my body…and in my heart!"

Sephiroth raised one icy eyebrow. "Oh, is that so?" he inquired, giving the same terrible, beautiful smile he had given to Aerith when she died. "You are only a puppet…you have no heart…and cannot feel any pain." He took a step back, cocking his head to one side, still wearing that smile, and his voice dropped to a whisper. "How can there be any meaning in the memory of such a being?" He cupped Cloud's face with one hand and lifted, letting his glowing emeralds meet Cloud's glowing sapphires. "What I have shown you is reality. What you remember…that is the illusion."

Cloud shrugged nonchalantly, though his heart was pounding, and averted his eyes, jerking away from the taller man's touch. He cast his gaze to the ground, brow furrowed, and pondered what his former partner had said. _Could it be…? Could my life be an illusion? _He bit his bottom lip. _I…_ He clenched his eyes shut, trying to think. _I…remember…_ His shining eyes snapped open. _…nothing. I don't remember anything…!_

"Cloud…" Vincent breathed, his inhumanly sharp eyes catching every subtle change in the younger man's expression. The blond's eyes were wide, his mouth open ever so slightly, and his breath was coming in short gasps.

Tifa took a shaky breath. "Cloud…!"

Sephiroth was the one who drew Cloud's gaze, however. When their eyes met, Cloud could almost feel the determination in Sephiroth's heart; such belief, such unwavering certainty…Sephiroth, at least, thought he was telling the truth. His smile had faded, his mouth set into a grim line. His brows were arched, and there was a glimmer of the real Sephiroth visible in his expression. "Do you understand?" he inquired, sounding almost as though he had just completed briefing him on a mission.

"I don't want to understand," Cloud replied, taking a step back. "But I want to ask you one thing." Sephiroth raised his eyebrows and gestured with one hand for the younger man to go on. "Why? Why are you doing this?"

The man let out a single heartless laugh, then disappeared in a flash of light. Tifa's cry as

she bolted to Cloud's side was signal enough to prove that the former elite SOLDIER was not gone from their presence, however. Cloud turned to see Vincent with his scarlet eyes locked onto Sephiroth, narrowed slightly in rage. The white-haired man turned his head lazily to face the gunner and Vincent turned away, joining Tifa beside Cloud. Unlike Tifa, however, Vincent did not run.

Sephiroth laughed again, eyes traveling from the cloaked man back to Cloud. "I want to return you to your true self, the one who gave me the Black Materia that day." His lips curved in a broad grin, showing a flash of perfect white teeth, and his shoulders shook with suppressed laughter. "Who would have ever thought a failed experiment would prove so useful?" He let out a loud strain of laughter, eyes clenched tightly shut, and remained that way for several seconds. Then, bent over, hands on his abdomen, his emerald eyes opened, narrowed slightly. "Oh, Hojo would just _die_ if he knew!"

Cloud started backward. "Hojo!" He had almost let himself believe that his days dealing with that lunatic were done—he was surprised to hear his name again at all, much less from Sephiroth. "What does he have to do with me?"

Sephiroth's laughter trailed off and he stood straight, letting out a sigh in exasperation. Would he have to explain everything? No wonder Hojo had given up on this boy; he was indeed a wreck, a mess of dreams and illusions, memories of smoke and vapor that he took for the truth. "Five years ago you were…" he paused, searching for the most accurate term, "constructed…by Hojo, piece by piece, right after Nibelheim was destroyed. A puppet made up on vibrant Jenova cells, knowledge, and the power of Mako. An incomplete Sephiroth Clone." He took a step closer to the blond, then another, then another…Tifa darted behind Cloud, hands over her face. "Not even given a number," he continued, stopping just in front of him and placing a hand on the side of the younger man's face, brushing his fingers along the curve of Cloud's cheek. "…That is your reality."

The ex-SOLDIER once again cast his Mako eyes downward, concentrating. _I remember…_ He thought, tilting his head slightly, as though the motion would jog loose some memory. _I remember…_

"Cloud…don't listen to him…" Tifa hissed, placing one shaking hand on his shoulder, shoving back her fear of Sephiroth, who was just…so…close…! She shook her head, raising her voice. "Close your ears! Close your eyes! Don't listen!"

The young man turned to look at her over his shoulder, brow furrowed. "What's wrong, Tifa?" he inquired, giving a weak smile. "I'm not affected by it…" His smile faded as he turned his gaze back on Sephiroth; the silvery-haired man who seemed to know more truth that Cloud had ever known in his entire life. Entire life? What was that, five years? If Sephiroth was right, then it had only been five years since…since… He took a deep breath, standing a little straighter. "I wasn't paying attention to him."

"All that talk of Hojo constructing you is a lie!" Tifa continued, her voice raising even higher, her eyes wide and frantic. "Don't we have our memories together? Being kids together? Starlit nights…?" The words came out in rush, and she knew she was probably making him even more wary by sounding so afraid. But she couldn't have him find out…he could never know…the truth….

Sephiroth chuckled, turning his piercing gaze on the girl. "Tifa…why are you so worried? Why are you so scared by these words?" He cocked his head to one side. "Hmm…shall I show everyone here what is in your heart?" Tifa started, her mouth going dry, and she turned her back on the horrible, beautiful image of Sephiroth and Cloud. "You look like you're not feeling well," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. With one more laugh, Sephiroth disappeared.

-

Not much different than the original, but a bit clearer. Writing _Bound_ has really been a great writing exercise for me, and I tried to give this rewrite the same basic flavor as my oversized AU fic.

Thanks to anyone who's reading this, and to anyone who reviewed the old version. You guys are the only thing that keep me writing. :)


	2. I Remember

**Author's Note:** Here's the rewrite of Part Two, which is a bit more drastic than Part One. There aren't any major changes, but the differences are pronounced enough that if you read the original you should notice them without much searching.

Quick review of where Part One broke off:

_Sephiroth chuckled, turning his piercing gaze on the girl. "Tifa…why are you so worried? Why are you so scared by these words?" He cocked his head to one side. "Hmm…shall I show everyone here what is in your heart?" Tifa started, her mouth going dry, and she turned her back on the horrible, beautiful image of Sephiroth and Cloud. "You look like you're not feeling well," he said softly, his voice barely above a whisper. With one more laugh, Sephiroth disappeared._

-

**Part Two: I Remember…**

-

"Tifa?" Cloud breathed, turning around to face her. "Is Sephiroth right?"

She closed her eyes, bowing her head. "Cloud…"

"Why are you so scared?' the young man inquired, giving a wary smile. "Don't worry about me, I'm all right. No matter how confused I am, I'll never believe a word Sephiroth says."

Vincent, silent once more, could feel Cloud's uncertainty seeping into his words. He may have sounded sure of himself, but he most definitely was not. _Cloud, you know who you are,_ he thought. _Don't you? You told me that you were the only one who could beat Sephiroth: that's who you are._ He opened his mouth to speak, to voice his thoughts aloud, but Cloud cut him off.

The young blond slouched, eyes growing soft. "It's true that sometimes I can't figure out who I am. There's a lot of things muddled up in my memories." He squinted slightly, as though he were concentrating. "But, Tifa…you said 'Long time no see, Cloud,' right? Those words will always support me." He took a deep breath and stood up straight, closing his eyes as his lips curved in a contented smile. "I am the one you grew up with. I'm Cloud of Nibelheim. No matter how much I lose faith in myself, that's the truth. That's why you shouldn't be so scared." He opened his eyes, revealing them to be bright and certain. "No matter what anyone else says to me, it's your attitude that counts." He lowered his gaze and turned away, looking up into the sky. Past the flames, illusory and silent, into the stars. The same stars he and Tifa had looked at that day, so long ago…the same stars they talked under as children…the same stars that had led him back home.

Home…Nibelheim was home, he knew that much. He had grown up alongside Tifa and…and…others. Others he couldn't recall. No names, no faces, just shadows and flickers flitting through his mind. He remembered falling, screaming, reaching for someone's hand; he remembered hurting someone, feeling their blood on his hands and tasting it in the air, watching with what could only be called satisfaction as a body considerably larger than his own fell to the cobbled ground in a dead heap. He took a deep breath and shook his head to clear it of the images. He was Cloud of Nibelheim, he grew up with Tifa. That was the truth, wasn't it?

But if that was so, if she was his friend, why did he remember hurting so many people she cared about? He had hurt her friends, because they…they… He couldn't remember.

Tifa turned around to face him, but he had already turned away. "No," she said softly, inadvertently answering a question she couldn't possibly have heard, leaning forward just enough to put her into Cloud's peripheral vision. "That's not true, Cloud…"

The young man spun around, eyes narrowed, voice raised. "What's not?" he asked indignantly. "Aren't I the Cloud you grew up with?"

"That's not what I mean!" she replied vehemently. Her tear-shining eyes met Cloud's, and she felt her will bend to the point of breaking. He wanted it to be the truth—he wanted so badly to be the boy she had grown up with. But was he, really? Even Tifa didn't know. She averted her eyes, shaking her head. "I don't know ho to say it. Cloud, I need some time—just give me a little more time…"

Cloud opened his mouth to reply, but the words died in his throat as another flash of white heralded the return of Sephiroth. "Cloud, don't blame Tifa," the man said gently, his tone bordering on sympathetic. His eyes cast over Tifa, alighting on her bowed head for a moment, then shot back to Cloud. "The ability to change one's appearance, voice, and words is the power of Jenova. Inside you, Jenova has merged with Tifa's memories, creating you." He leaned down, eye-level with Cloud, and shook his head. "In Tifa's memories…there just might have been a boy named Cloud…"

A flash of white. Cloud's head began to hurt.

"Cloud…Please…" Tifa pleaded. "Don't think right now."

Another flash. Cloud lifted one hand to massage his temple.

Sephiroth laughed, his eyes narrowing, his voice taking on a mocking tone. "Think, Cloud!" He paused. "Cloud? Oh, excuse me—you never had a name, did you?"

Cloud shook his head, both hands against it now, fingers dug into his thick sunshine hair. "Shut up…" he rasped, eyes clenched tightly shut. "Shut up, Sephiroth."

"You still don't understand?" Sephiroth sighed, brow creasing. This boy was a failure indeed. "Then…" He thought; how to prove the truth to this boy? How to show him that his memories were smoke and vapor, as they surely were? He thought back to the day he had modeled this illusion after, and his lips curved in a wicked grin. He let out a laugh and nodded to himself—perfect! Oh, this was just _too_ rich! "Do you remember the picture that we took before we headed for Mount Nibel?" When Cloud did not move, the silvery-haired turned his gaze to Tifa. "Tifa, you remember, right?" He held his arms out, turning back to Cloud. "But there's no way _he_ would know…" He shook his head, lowering his eyes and arms and looking about. What had the photographer looked like? He had killed him back then, and this illusion was a perfect duplicate of what had happened that day, so he should have been nearby. "Now, what happened to that picture?" he murmured, more to himself than the three onlookers.

His eyes cast past the crimson-cloaked figure that had accompanied Cloud, brushing over him easily, but then his shining emerald eyes shot back. Emeralds met rubies, and Sephiroth squinted slightly. This man was…familiar. The tilt of his eyes, the way his hair fell just so…had he met him before? Cloud had called him Vincent—hadn't Doctor Gast once mentioned someone by the name of Vincent?

"_But that's Hojo's business; no matter how wrong I think it is, what I'm doing is just as bad—in some ways it's worse. At least Vincent is an adult, our subject is just a child…"_

The white-haired man shook his head, pulling his eyes from the shining crimson gaze of Vincent. There was something there that he knew, but he didn't care to find out what. Not just yet. His gaze found a crumpled figure on the ground, and his eyes lit up once more. He bent down and rifled through the man's belongings. "Is this it?" he breathed, brow furrowing as he pulled a small white object from the man's bag. He smiled, rose to his feet, and turned back to Cloud, holding out the photograph for him to take. "Do you want to see it? It turned out pretty good."

Tifa held out one hand. "Cloud, don't…"

He turned back to face her, eyes sharp with determination. "I…I should be in that picture." She opened her mouth to reply, to tell him not to look, but he turned away once more, shaking his head. "Even if I'm not there, don't worry. This is just an illusory world Sephiroth made up." He stepped forward, now an armlength from Sephiroth, and took the photograph. Their fingers brushed for just and instant as he took the paper, and Cloud had to fight to keep from shaking. The slightest touch and he felt a rush of indescribable power…could it be that he really was a Clone, and this feeling was caused by the reunion with the original? _No—keep your cool, Cloud,_ he admonished himself. _Come on…_

He looked down at the photo, and his stomach lurched. There was Tifa, dressed in her deep orange mountain gear and that hat—the ugly brownish one that Cloud had always hated—with Sephiroth on her left, eyes averted, the Masamune propped against his shoulder. He had clearly just let out an exasperated sigh at letting himself get dragged into this, just as Cloud remembered. And on Tifa's right…

On Tifa's right stood the same amethyst-eyed, black-haired, indigo-garbed man that had replaced Cloud thus far in this illusion. He was smiling; the same arrogant, almost cold—yet still somehow cheerful—smile that Cloud had seen so often in his own reflection. Somehow, it looked more natural on his face than it did on Cloud's.

But wasn't this man the illusion, Cloud the reality? Cloud was real, this man was not. That was the truth—he had to remember that. _Don't let it get to you,_ he thought. "Just as I thought," he said, letting his hand fall to his side, the photo sliding from his fingers. He looked up to where Sephiroth had been, only to find that he had disappeared while the younger man examined the picture. He raised his voice for Sephiroth, wherever he was, to hear. "This picture is a fake. The truth is in my memory."

He took a deep breath, thinking back. "Five years ago, I came back to Nibelheim to inspect the reactor. I was sixteen." He fell silent for a moment, calling back the words he had used to describe that time and images they coupled with. "The town hadn't changed at all. What did I do?" He thought for a moment more, then smiled and nodded. "Oh yeah. I saw my mom. I saw the people in town. Yeah, I went to Tifa's room. There I…" He trailed off, concentrating hard to call back the memory. He smiled slightly, holding a hand to his head and calling out vehemently. "I played the piano! I looked in the drawers! I read the letter addressed to Tifa!" His smile faded ever so slightly, going from elated to wistful as he closed his eyes. _Block out the illusion. Call up the truth. I remember… _"I spent the night and went to the reactor in Mount Nibel. I was excited about it…" His eyes snapped open. "…Because that was my first mission after becoming First Class in SOLDIER."

A flash of white.

"SOLDIER, First Class?" He shook his head, eyes narrowing slightly. "SOLDIER? When did I enter SOLDIER?" He held both hands to his head, wincing as though in pain. Why couldn't he remember? "How did I join SOLDIER?" He fell to his knees. "Why…why can't I remember?"

_I remember…_

He took an unsteady breath, eyes closed, hands shaking even as he tore at his hair. "I'm…I'm…" His eyes snapped open once more and he rose to his feet. His gaze was blank and unseeing, torn with shock. "That's right…" his eyes narrowed as the memory returned. "I didn't have to worry about it because I was…"

The world went black.

…_Because I was made for it._

Vincent closed his eyes—white he could bear, black he could not. Unending shadow had been his world for years, he did not want to return to it. Not now, when it seemed they were so close to finally finding the truth; not now, when he was so close to finally atoning for his sins… He bit his bottom lip and shook his head, crossing his arms tightly over his chest. "Not now," he whispered, knowing that no one would hear him. "Not now…"

"Cloud…?" Tifa whispered into the darkness.

Cloud let out a sigh. "Let's go, Tifa," he called. "I'm…I'm all right."

Everything, once again and for the last time, went white.

They were moving…Cloud could feel it. He bowed his head, eyes closed, and let out a long sigh. So everything had been a lie—he wasn't Cloud, he wasn't an ex-SOLDIER, he wasn't even _human_. Everything, every single thing he had taken to be truth, everything he had thought of as his life, were lies.

_I remember…_

Tifa had said it. 'Long time no see, Cloud.' But he wasn't Cloud—he just looked like Tifa's childhood friend because of the piece of Jenova inside him. Because Tifa had happened to stumble over him at the train station, and Jenova had decided that her memories would do just fine for the host of this particular Clone.

_I remember…_

What did he really look like under this lie? Was he just a copy of Sephiroth, an exact replica? Had he looked like…him…before Tifa came along?

_I remember…_

Or was all that a lie as well?

…_Nothing._

There was ground beneath his feet again, and the world came back into being around him. There were people—people he knew and yet did not, people he had seen before but had not—gathered around the area, all of them seemed surprise at his sudden arrival. Vincent stood off to one side, just behind and to the left of a small woman with short blond hair and eyes almost the same cinnamon shade as Tifa's.

Tifa…she stood far off and away from Cloud, looking about in confusion. Hadn't she been able to tell they were being moved? Hadn't she been able to feel it? Cloud realized with a start that she had not—he did only because he was a part of the one who moved them. He had noticed only because, had he known the truth earlier and practiced, he would have been capable of the same thing.

But Vincent was not disoriented in the least. Cloud gave a short sigh, almost smiling—almost, but not quite—to realize that he was not the only one who was not quite human. Maybe he wasn't all alone after all…

"Where did you come from?" inquired the man to his right, garbed in a white lab coat, his stringy black hair shining sickly in the pale green light. Pale green? Cloud glanced upward to see a massive…tree? Roots, perhaps, encircling a great mass of what looked like unrefined Materia. If he squinted ever so slightly, looked a little harder, he could almost see into the stone…almost…see…

The young man looked back at Professor Hojo, the man with the disgustingly greasy hair and beady bespectacled eyes. He had said something, hadn't he? Asked…where Cloud came from. Yes, that was it. "Don't know…" he replied quietly, averting his eyes. _But you should,_ he added silently, turning his gaze on the other all-too-familiar man, willing the current Shinra President to face him.

Rufus turned, running a hand through his short fiery hair, his turquoise eyes meeting Cloud's with a look of disdain. Cloud spoke before Rufus could. "This place is going to get rough," he said, not noticing that his words were muddled, not noticing how confused he sounded. "Better leave things to me and get out of here while you still can."

The Shinra leader raised one eyebrow. "Leave things to you?" he scoffed, shaking his head. "I really have no idea what you're talking about."

Cloud turned away and looked down at the earth beneath his feet, feeling the energy seeping in through his shoes. The soil seemed to vibrate with some unseen power, making Cloud nervous. It all felt so familiar, so _right_. This was where it was happening—this was where he was meant to be. "This," he said softly, gesturing about, "is where the Reunion is happening. Where everything begins and ends…"

Tifa rushed past Rufus, past Hojo, calling out. "…Cloud!" she hollered.

To everyone's surprise, Barret came rushing in at that very moment. "Yo!" He called, hailing Cloud. "We're here to help you!" No one was certain of what he meant by 'we,' nor how he had found his way there, but he seemed to think he was doing something right by appearing so suddenly.

Cloud shivered, the power in the earth building until he could barely stand it. He turned to Barret and took a step in his direction, but parting his foot from the earth was painful. He slammed it back down, renewing the contact between himself and the planet. He looked up at the giant Materia stone, gazing deep within its depths, and nodded. He painfully, shakingly, clumsily walked up to the much larger man "Thanks…" What was his name? He tried to remember. "Barret. Where's the Black Materia?"

"Cloud!" the word was hoarse, torn from Tifa's throat by something more than her own wish—he needed to come back to himself. He needed to remember! If he didn't… _If he doesn't wake up,_ she thought brokenly, _then the Planet is going to die!_

Barret smiling, rifling through his pockets. "It's safe. I have it."

Cloud sighed and averted his eyes. "I'll take it from here," he said quietly. "Give me the…" he swallowed, a difficult task considering the lump in his throat, "the Black Materia."

Tifa's eyes filled with tears, her voice dropping to a ragged whisper. "You can't hear my voice?" She felt her heart begin to break. It was no good—he was too far gone for her to reach anymore. He had gone far away from her, lost within Sephiroth's words. Lost within the truth.

"You all right?" Barret asked, brow furrowing slightly. Cloud nodded and gave a weak smile, then held out his hand. "Okay then, here. Had a lot of pressure holding this thing…" He looked down just once more at the perfect blackness of the Materia. It was deep and dark and seemed to go on forever…and the _power_! Even Barret could feel it resonating in his hand.

Tifa clenched her eyes shut, hands curling into fists so tightly that her nails broke open her palms. "No, don't! Please stop! _Cloud_!" The tears spilled over, streaming down her cheeks even as she screamed his name.

Vincent closed his eyes and bowed his head; this was it, then, the end of all things. They had come so far, done so much, he had almost allowed himself to smile again…and now it was all going to end. Because of one little nightmare, condensed and solidified into that impossibly dark gem, they were going to die.

Cloud's fingers curled around the black sphere, the vibrations all around him intensifying the instant he touched it. Even through his gloves he could feel it—this Materia, like himself, was made for Sephiroth to control. "Thanks," he said softly. "Leave the rest to me."

For an instant he thought he could see Sephiroth; he could see those glowing green eyes, the faint smile that curved his lips, even the way his snowy-pale hair so perfectly framed his face was etched perfectly into that instant.

"**Come on,**" a deep voice said, the sweet and dark voice that had so long haunted Cloud's dreams, the voice that now haunted his thoughts. "**The Black Materia.**"

_Just a moment more…_ Cloud thought.

"**Wait!**" Another voice, this one just as familiar though it was feminine in pitch, screamed, tone laced with terror. "**Just a little longer!**"

…_Sephiroth._

-

Two parts down, one part to go. I'm just about done touching that one up, too, so it should be posted before long. Thanks to anyone who returned to read this update, and special thanks to anyone waiting patiently for the next chapter of _Bound_.

Also, just so everyone knows, this fanfic—under its original title, _Your Life is the Illusion_, was originally a single fanfic about twenty pages long, but I had to break it up to upload it properly. Hence the blockiness of chapter cuts. Well, that's it out of me this time; see you next update!


	3. I Missed You

**Author's Note:** Well, here's the last one. Anyone who's been reading this touched-up/borderline-rewritten version, I hope you've enjoyed it. I do have plans for other projects along this thread—Vincent's and Lucrecia's story, Zack's death, Sephiroth's descent into madness, Cloud's return to sanity—but they, as with most of my stories, are rather long in coming.

Thanks to anyone who's still waiting for _Bound_, but I have to say that it's going to be a while. Maybe a week, maybe two, maybe even a month. I'm really sorry, but things on my end have spun completely out of my control, and my computer is currently sitting, unhooked and unplugged, in the corner of my living room. It works just fine, but I don't have anywhere to set it up right now. I'm trying to get it hooked up for about ten minutes or so so I can upload _Bound _onto a disk and work on it from my mother's computer, but it doesn't looks like it's gonna happen. Sorry, and thank you for your continued patience!

-

**Part Three: I Missed You**

-

Cloud turned around and looked out at everyone—eyes going from Scarlet to Vincent to Rufus, carefully brushing over Tifa, to Hojo—and then let out a sigh. "Everyone, thanks for everything," he said with the faintest of smiles, that smile that belonged not to him, but the amethyst-eyed man of Sephiroth's illusions. "And…I'm sorry." He turned his sapphire eyes on Vincent. "Sorry." To Barret. "Sorry." At last, at long last, he turned to Tifa. "Especially you, Tifa—I'm _so_ sorry." He felt tears burn behind his eyes. "You've been so good to me; I don't know what you say…" The unnumbered Clone shook his head, letting out a long and shaking breath, closing his eyes. "I never lived up to being Cloud," he murmured, "but Tifa…maybe, one day, you'll meet the real Cloud again."

Tifa fell to her knees. "No…" she gasped, tears streaming down her face, salty rivulets unstoppable. She clenched her eyes shut and shook with a single sob, then another and another. She could taste the tears in her mouth. The fighter pounded her fists on the ground, sobbing, her voice weak and broken, laced with pain and sorrow beyond anything she had ever known. "…_No_!"

Cloud opened his eyes once more, the burning behind them fading, and started to walk past Professor Hojo. He stopped dead directly in front of him, turning slowly to face the ebon-haired Wutaian, and found that the scientist was laughing.

"This is perfect!" Hojo beamed. "This means that the experiment was a complete success!" He let out another high, raspy laugh, reaching out to take Cloud's free hand—his left. "What number were you?" He inquired, pulling off the younger man's glove and unwinding the bandages Cloud had always covered that hand with. At least now he understood why he felt so compelled to keep it concealed. Hojo turned Cloud's hand over to view the top, and then his brow furrowed when he saw that it was unmarked. "Huh?" He looked back up at Cloud, eyes narrowing slightly. "Where's your tattoo?"

Cloud's eyes turned dark with melancholy. "Professor Hojo," he said softly, "I don't have a number. You didn't give me one because you said I was a failed experiment."

_A failure, just like always…_ murmured a voice in the back of his mind.

Hojo's eyes went wide and he took a startled step backward, dropping Cloud's bare hand and his indigo glove. "What the—?" He took a shaky breath. "You mean only a _failure_ made it here!"

Cloud leaned in closer to the scientist. "Professor…please give me a number," he pleaded in a whisper, tears forming in his eyes. "Please, Professor…" He held out his bare hand, the one that should have borne a number, _his_ number; something that would be true and near and so very _real_. Something that he could trust as reality. Something that could never be called a lie.

"Shut up, you miserable failure!" Hojo snapped, eyes dark, face flushed with rage.

A horrible, beautiful buzzing echoed in Cloud's ears—the call. He was being summoned. He looked up at the roots and the Materia they held, and then cast his eyes downward, clenching them shut. He crossed his arms as though he was cold, shivering in spite of the wonderful heat that was rushing through him, or perhaps because of it. Perhaps, deep down in the darkest corner of his soul, Cloud was still fighting Sephiroth's call. Perhaps, for some reason not even he could tell, he was still trying to save the Planet.

If this inner struggle was going on, Cloud did not notice. He curled up on the ground, pulling up his knees to his chest and circling them with his arms, and closed his glowing eyes. The numberless Clone let out a long breath, as though he were falling asleep.

Rufus watched in horrid fascination as the young man known as Cloud floated up into the air, flipping upside-down and then shooting toward the roots high above, as though he was falling but his gravity had somehow been reversed, pointing his fall upward . "What in the world…?"

Vincent closed his eyes and bowed his head. _It's over,_ he thought emptily. _We've lost…_

Scarlet stared upward, trying to distinguish the sunshine-haired boy from the twisted mass of gnarled roots and the glow of that Materia stone they encircled, but not really understanding what it all meant. That boy had the Black Materia—the one Sephiroth was after—and Hojo had asked where his number was. She started. _Was he…? _She turned to face Hojo, cinnamon eyes wide. _Hojo, what have you done?_

"Who was that?" Rufus inquired, tearing his impossibly bright eyes away from the distant, upside-down figure of Cloud and placing them on Hojo.

The scientist snorted in disgust. "He's a Sephiroth Clone I created after the real Sephiroth died five years ago." He shurgged as though in dismissal, but continued his explanation anyway. "Jenova cells and Mako, my knowledge and skills, along with science and nature; they've all been combined to bring him to life."

Cloud sat in silence high above, listening intently to every word that was said.

"I'm not wild about the failure part," Hojo continued, "but the Jenova Reunion Theory has now been proven." He folded his arms and looked up at the lattice of roots high above them, brow furrowing. "At least he succeeded in that, the little fool…"

It wasn't time yet, Cloud knew that much. _Just a moment more…_ Sephiroth's call wasn't strong enough; to give him the Black Materia now would prove fatal for everyone involved—Sephiroth and himself included. And then what would the point be? What good would it have done anyone? If not even Sephiroth survived, then everything truly was lost…

The scientist cast his eyes downward again, speaking in a tone so matter-of-fact that even Rufus felt somewhat sick to his stomach. "You see, even if Jenova's body is completely dismembered, it will eventually become one again. That's what is meant by the Jenova Reunion." Hojo nodded in satisfaction, fully enjoying the spotlight placed on him—it wasn't every day he got to explain his life's work. Well, Gast's life's work; the work he had given his life for. Hojo almost laughed at the irony.

He didn't know that Cloud could hear his every word and more, every nuance of emotion loud in the blond's ears—louder still in Sephiroth's. Cloud could feel him, his call growing stronger with each word from the lunatic scientist below, and shook his head. _Not yet, Sephiroth. Not quite yet…_

"I've been waiting for the Reunion to start; five years have passed and now the Clones have begun to return." Hojo's manic grin broadened as he glanced up in an attempt to see Cloud amidst the tangled roots—it was a vain attempt, though Cloud, had he only lifted his head, would have been able to see Hojo perfectly. "I thought the Clones would gather at Midgar, where Jenova was stored, but my predictions weren't entirely correct," the Professor continued. "Jenova itself began to move away from the Shinra Building.

Cloud opened his eyes.

"But, being the genius that I am, I soon figured it out." He gestured with his hands, pacing back and forth. "You see, it was all Sephiroth's doing. Sephiroth is not content to diffuse his will into the Lifestream; he wants to manipulate the Clones himself."

Cloud closed his eyes once more, hugging his legs and leaning his forehead against his knees. _"Yes,"_ he said softly, _"that was how it got started."_

The greasy-haired self-proclaimed genius sighed. "I wondered where the Clones were going, but I was never able to figure it out."

Vincent narrowed his scarlet eyes, grinding his teeth. "Don't you think you screwed around enough, Hojo!" he inquired angrily, throwing back his cloak to reveal his artificial arm, the claw that Hojo himself had given him. "You had already killed more people than any one soul is worth—I'm glad you never figured it out."

"_I couldn't figure it out either,"_ Cloud breathed, unheard.

Hojo, completely ignoring Vincent's outburst, finally completed his monologue. "The one thing that I did know what that Sephiroth was their final destination."

Cloud looked down, his brow furrowing. _"I wasn't pursuing Sephiroth," _he shook his head. _"I was being summoned by Sephiroth." _He let out a sigh and shook his head once more, closing his eyes tightly. _"All the anger and hatred I bore him made it impossible for me to ever forget him. That, and what he gave me…"_ He opened his eyes and rose to his feet, raising his voice ever so slightly. "Sephiroth? I'm here. I brought you the Black Materia." He looked about. "Sephiroth…where are you?" he sounded almost hurt, upset by Sephiroth's neglect. His only successful Clone—and yet the only failure—had come, and now he wasn't even going to show himself?

…_here…_

Cloud started, searching for the owner of that voice. That beautiful, terrible, cherished, loathed voice; the voice he had gone so long without hearing in its full glory. Clones, memories—illusions, rather—and impressions could never compare to the real thing. He listened intently, certain there would be more.

…_i'm here…_

The blond turned to face the huge Materia stone, taking a step toward it, then another, then another. He placed one hand against it—his bare hand, the one that should have borne his number—and took a deep breath. He really was here; Cloud could _feel_ him… He leaned his cheek against the stone, closing his eyes and letting out a sigh as warmth flowed through him. Cloud smiled. "Sephiroth…" he breathed. "So we finally meet again."

The giant Materia stone began to shake, but Cloud did not recoil; even when the roots that bound it loosened, lowering it down halfway to the ground, not even when the winter light cast through the stone to reveal Sephiroth's sleeping form, snow-pale hair shining in the snow-pale sunlight. Still Cloud leaned against it—this was where Sephiroth lay. This was where he was meant to be. Always near…forever by Sephiroth's side. This was how it was meant to be.

He took a short breath, lowering his voice to whisper so faint he could barely hear it himself. "I missed you," he breathed.

Hojo let out an elated laugh—he alone among those congregated below had not moved when Sephiroth's resting place began to fall—and threw out both arms. "Did you see it!" he exclaimed. "It's Sephiroth! He _is_ here!" Everyone turned to face the raving professor as he began gesturing wildly, almost convulsively. "This is perfect! Both Jenova's Reunion and Sephiroth's will! They won't be diffused into the Lifestream, but gathered here!" He laughed aloud, his ragged voice breaking at the crescendo of each chime.

Tifa pulled away from Vincent, who had lifted her from the ground when Sephiroth began to travel downward, and stomped up to the much older man. "What are you so happy about, Professor!" she inquired incredulously, unable to believe that anyone could be this insane. "You know what this means, don't you!" Hojo continued to cackle, and Tifa ground her teeth, raising her voice to a shout. "Cloud has the Black Materia! Sephiroth is going to summon Meteor!" She stomped her foot on the springy earth, leaning in closer to the maniacally joyful scientist. "Every single person is going to die!"

Rufus let out a sigh, shaking his head and raking one hand through his fiery blond hair. "Whatever I say now is too little, too late…" he trailed off, turquoise eyes growing dark, and let out a sigh before looking up, his eyes locking with Vincent's. "We must evacuate." Everyone turned to the President of Shinra with surprise, but he merely shook his head. "I want you all to come with me. There is still much more I want to hear."

Vincent narrowed his eyes slightly. _Tell tales to a Shinra?_ He thought. _I'd rather die than explain anything to anyone even associated with Shinra, much less the leader. _He opened his mouth to express this aloud, but one look from Rufus made any words he had prepared die before they were even given life. He looked…apologetic. Truly sorry for what he had done.

The gunner took a wary breath, shaking his head. "We're trusting you, Shinra," he said resolutely. "Don't turn out to be like your father."

Rufus nodded and turned around. "All right, the Highwind is this w—" he broke off as Barret's gruff voice cut through his own silky tones, turning to the massive vigilante with eyes that were slightly narrowed, almost confused.

"Cloud!" Barret hollered. "Stop! Knock it off!"

Tifa's head jerked back as she looked up, looking for what Barret was seeing. Her eyes widened. "Dear Gaea…" she murmured, her voice dead and distant.

Cloud stood in front of Sephiroth, though there was nothing beneath his feet to support him, with the Black Materia in his right hand, his left pressed against the cool stone, the contact a conduit for Sephiroth's warmth to flow through. He leaned forward, extending his hand, and his eyes—those heartbroken, dark eyes—grew a little bit brighter. "Here, Sephiroth," he said softly. "I brought it…just for you…"

He pressed his other hand against the stone, the Black Materia resonating in time with both his and Sephiroth's heartbeat. His fingers sunk through the glassy surface, edged with light, and soon his entire forearm was immersed in the stone, which now seemed somehow liquid. It was painful, so very painful, but he carefully spread out each of his cramped fingers, releasing the shining black gem into the white-haired man's resting place. It floated through the perfectly solid stone as though it was water, lodging itself against Sephiroth's chest, just over his heart. Cloud watched with shining eyes as it slowly sunk into the man's chest, burying itself deep within him.

The blond looked back up, his eyes alighting on the face of Jenova's son, and his already Mako-bright eyes brightened. "That's it, Sephiroth. It's for you," he closed his eyes and drew back both hands, placing them against his chest, "and only you. I hope you like it."

Then the world began to shake. The tremors sent ripples of energy through the air upon which Cloud stood, making his step unsteady. He knew he was going to fall; there was no way he could remain steady in such a quake. He was, after all, just a failed Clone… Cloud didn't have time to think again, however, for it was then that something snapped amongst the mass of roots that held up Sephiroth, sending the giant Materia tomb down to the ground.

He turned to watch as his comrades—former comrades, perhaps? Or comrades of the man he had pretended to be?—rushed away from the impending disaster. Everyone ran except Vincent and Hojo, the latter of which was swiftly retrieved by Tifa. The girl paused at the mouth of the cave, turning to look back at the gunner. "Vincent, come on!" she shouted.

The ruby-eyed man stared up at Cloud for a moment more; when their eyes finally met, Cloud realized what the gunner was doing, why he refused to leave. Vincent was waiting for Cloud to come back down.

Sephiroth's only surviving Clone gave a smile, a serene smile that seemed impossible in his current situation, and shook his head gently. _No, Vincent,_ he thought. _I don't deserve your company anymore. I don't deserve anything…_

As though Vincent could hear Cloud's thoughts, which wasn't unlikely considering what had been done to the gunner, he averted his eyes and bowed his head. Taking a deep breath, he nodded once and then turned to follow after Tifa. She hurried out, and the scarlet-cloaked man gave one last glance to Cloud before rushing out after her.

Cloud let out a sigh, dipping down in the air to be even with Sephiroth once more, and gave him the same impossibly serene smile. Leaning his brow against the cool stone, feeling the hum that ran through his body at the contact, he closed his eyes and wrapped his arms around the stone as far as he could. He turned his head to one side, resting his cheek against the Materia, and let out a long breath.

"Sephiroth…" he whispered.

The earth beneath them began to break, Mako pouring forth from the gashes like blood from a wound, and quickly began to fill up the cave. A heartbeat and it was at Cloud's feet; another and it was up to his waist. One more and he was completely immersed in the Planet's liquid energy. And still he smiled, opening his mouth to speak one last time.

"…I missed you."

And then his world turned to darkness.

_-Fin_

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End file.
